A/N

I'm trying to bring these out for you guys quicker, so I gotta put a lot more work in.

Side note: I never acknowledged Frosty Asian. They've been in my reviews since I wrote that first

chapter for fun. I really appreciate you all, but I had to let Frosty Asian know I see them in there.

Also I'm going to be adding poems of mine that relate to the story if you guys are okay with that.

I write them off the top of my head so if they suck I'm sorry.

Fate and her mother moved to London. So when you think of her voice in this newest chapter, she has an accent.

Fraud

How dare you scorn me

With your hurtful curses

Leaving me crying and seething

Searching for reimbursement

How you could compare the thought I to a summer's day

Quick and disappearing

Like a leaf in the wind

So easily blown away

I should hate you

Despise you for your words

Wish to see burn

To have your eyes plucked by birds

But I am too

A forgiving soul

Letting go on a whim

Letting dread fall to the deep hole

You are so lucky I love you

For if your safety wasn't my wish

I would destroy your being

And leave your ashes in the abyss

~XXXD

Fate's POV

My mother.

My beautifully loving mother.

Hated me.

Despised me in ways even the most wicked of men would drop their jaws to.

It seemed since the moment the age of 10 had grasped me, she had lost all interest in my well-being and happiness, consequences be damned.

I've no idea what I've done to deserve such treatment. I oblige, consecrate everything I do to perfection, and reel in recollection to every comment, criticism, or concern.

At least my mother's anyway. I never particularly cared much for others opinion; I still don't.

I assume that could be the explanation for this situation of mine, but no.

Sadly, tis not. I'm 15 and have excelled beyond my peers in every sense of the word.

I've given up socializing, entertainment, and happiness; All to please my mother, who takes little notice.

Belittling my achievements, my hard works, poems, essays, letters signed by the mayor, art pieces, and showcases.

All mean nothing to her.

Just as I.

Nothing.

An unrecognizable speck in the blur of time.

Dare I say completely unimportant and unbeneficial to this hardened society.

The thought of death had crossed my mind once or twice.

Never in true sadness nor depression as one normally would feel this.

No, only did I ever have these feelings in good times.

The days my mother wished good tidings to me in the morning, seemed to genuinely care of my well-being, not like the facade she shines to the unfamiliar.

Not acting as a proud mother, but authentically being a proud mother.

Those were the days I contemplated retracting my soul from my body, by way of any means necessary.

I want to die with the memory of my mother loving me.

Yet not, I do not want to die, for that would mean never again would I know my mother's love.

The sweet days where abuse was an aching delusion.

A bitter nightmare, my mother, my own guardian angel to save me from it, but truly just a demon in disguise.

A wench sent to vex my hopeless form, conforming to my mother's images, at least what I believed them to be.

God if you are real, you are a wicked sin who deserves burning at the stake, singe I in hell for these words, but it is truly what I feel.

'Loving father' as people call you.

A homicidal, megalomaniacal, hypocrite serves the ear much better, rings with more truth than anything in this world.

I should praise him for brutally drowning his children for achieving equality.

Though I don't doubt his existence, my mother must have been a special project to him because she was 'Our Lord's' exact replica, with more mortal power.

I learned of her killing my father my 14th year of life, finally piecing together the clues.

I feared not confront her about it, twas nothing I or any soul I dared tell could do about it.

He was long dead, and I long cold to the thought of meeting my father.

To one day getting him out of his personalized hell.

The aching of knowing my mother killed him haunts me.

Haunts me in sleep, in alert times of the morning; Aye, it will haunt me until my long awaited demise.

She calls me 'Pater perditionem' or Father's destruction.

I barely retain dry eyes at her ferociously insensitive comments.

October 17, 1916

Channeling my anger into non-living things, practically tearing through the paper as I wrote with such force to break a horse's back.

Dark thoughts consumed me, swirling like a hungry storm ready to chaotically destroy anything in it's path.

Be it sanity, love, compassion, or intellect.

No traces would be left after the demonous rage.

Under casual circumstances I would have graciously accepted my mind's harsh punishment upon itself.

For some reason or another, there was a serious discrepancy I couldn't quite place.

I just felt that was not a day of angst or unhappiness.

Truthfully, a surge of delight seemed to course through me.

I've no idea why, nor an idea of where it arrived from, but I graciously accepted it.

Storing the feeling in my heart, so ever if I feel weak; I can pull from this delight, this joyous sensation.

The light begins to slowly fade into my black oblivion from whence it came.

"Oh wonderous feeling, from where does thou root. I would praise thine feet to bestow upon me this feeling of absolute love once again." I plead, hand firmly over my heart.

My mother bursts into the room as the light dies and disappointment grasps my heart.

"What are you doing in here, Patris; I can practically feel the pressure of your pen from the lower levels.' She stands before me, hand firmly secured on her hip.

"Nothing mother." I lower my head, suppressing the spike of pain that pierced my very soul.

"Hmph, how typical of you. Nothing. Just like your father." She practically spits out.

"You resemble him greatly, how disgusting."

"Mother, why must you say such things?"

"Because I never loved him as I will never love you." She glared into my eyes.

I lightly stood from my seat and looked back to her.

"Love me or hate me, both are in my favor, Mother. If you love me, I'll always be in your heart. If you hate me, I'll always be on your mind."

"Mother I know the latter to be true because you despise me for bearing any relation to father."

"You dare quote William at me?! I am the one who introduced to his works!" She seethed.

"And it has greatly worked in my favor. I thank you for that mother. I would never dare be ungrateful."

I was fiercely struck by the back of my mother's hand.

Beyond that I have no recollection of any events for the next two years.

September 13 1918

My memory seems to pick up in a hospital bed.

I sniffed the air and knew immediately where I was.

"What a dreadfully disgusting smell." I mumble.

"What in God's name?" I hear from my bed side.

I peer over to see an absolutely flabbergasted doctor. I take note of cord in his hand.

"By God, it's a miracle!" A nurse cries from my opposite end.

I look around the room confused, struggling to sit up.

I spot my mother in a chair not far from the doctor looking as if she were trying to curse the devil through the marble of the refined floor.

I could see slight movements of her lips. She was speaking, I just could not quite discern her words.

'It…. Ram… ram it…. Damn it?' I raised a curious, concerned eyebrow to my mother.

Damn it? Had she not wanted me to arise from my wound deepened slumber?

I scoffed.

Of course she wouldn't, how idiotic to think my mother cared for my physical well-being.

I laid there just waiting; Waiting to leave, to be discharged, forever exiled from this horrid place.

Doctors came, fawned over my lack of mental fog or recall, then left.

This happened for a long while, it almost seemed an eternity before I was finally released from my prison bed.

I arrived at my home with my extremely disturbed, aggravted mother.

A violent blizzard was raging outside, snow and hail quickly piling.

Up the stairs I went to my room, still in the same condition I remember it.

Not even 6 minutes later had I begun my adjustment back to home life when my mother entered.

I looked back at her, we exchange indifferent expression before she walks up to me picks me up by my neck and flings me to the nearest window.

My body shatters the glass and I fall one story to the ground, landing on jagged pieces of glass.

The burned sand shreds and lacerates me mercilessly.

I can't seem to let a whimper escape. I gasp and heave at the sight of jagged glass violently bursting through my left breast.

My lung is through, nothing in this life could save it.

I hear the crunch of snow and maniacal laugh. I turn to see my mother, unnaturally large grin spread on her face from ear to ear.

"Oh child you've no idea how long I've awaited this moment." She squeals laying a foot on my stomach and pulling the large glass through my chest.

I silently scream bloody murder. She laughs and begins to bite me.

On the neck, my upper thigh, both of my sides, and my face.

She giggles tourturesly all the while. My crimson blood pours out staining the snow.

A cough of blood."Mother….why?"

She spits in my face"I'm not your mother, fool. I killed your mother when you were just a wee las." She teased.

I lay in the snow, death beckoning me to his chambers, in shock and disbelief at my predicament.

"…..killed my mother….you… killed my mother….. I…" I was abruptly cut short by the red vomit that lay near my head.

She laughs crazily, walking towards the heavily forested woods.

My vision begins to go black and my conciousness is soon consumed.

Tight.

Don't let go.

I feel a tightness gripping me. It's comforting somewhat. I try to pinpoint the location, but I can't quite seem to find it.

Hand.

My hand.

Okay.

I finally regain a bit of control and squeeze back ever so gently.

I feel my eyes flutter open and am met with the most beautiful ocean blue eyes I've ever seen.

Cobalt has never been so captivating as it is in this moment.

I know this person.

N….

Naomi….

Nina….

No, no, no.

All names pale in comparison to the beauty known as….

"Nanoha."

"Fate." The way she says my name is practically orgasmic to the ears.

I am at an absolute loss for words.

"Hi."

"Hey." Nanoha responds, angelic voice melting my icy cold core.

Looking into her eyes I realized that she was it.

"Wonderous feeling." I whisper faintly.

A/N

That's is a wrap! I hope you enjoyed reading from me. All comments criticisms and concerns are welcome! The lack of reviews from the last one disheartened me a bit, but I won't let that get in my way!

Sayounara

(Goodbye)